Thicker Than Blood
by Catmoongirl
Summary: Matt flicked his cigarette butt out of the window. "I've just been thinking about what it would have been like if I were still with my parents." "You'd be dead by now, Matt." "I know," the redhead sighed. "But I still wonder sometimes."
1. Prologue: Appeal

A/N: Wow! Here I am again! I want to thank everyone for their amazing support with my last fic. You've encouraged me to write again! So, this was a little kernel of an idea that blossomed into a full on story as I wrote Beyond. The first chapter is a lot of exposition, but believe me, you'll find out everything you need to know by the end of chapter 2.  
So, this fic takes place during the three weeks in December when Matt and Mello just seem to disappear from the storyline in the manga. Anything in italics is a flashback.  
I've worked quite hard on trying to start this fic. I rewrote the prologue and the first chapter five times and ended up cutting half of the first chapter and rewriting it again. lol. I really do hope you enjoy it. **Please read and review! Thank you!**  
The M rating is for mentions non-con sex, abuse, self-mutilation, graphic sexual material, some gore and violence, and frequent bad language.  
So, without further ado, I give you the prologue! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. I only own any non-canon characters that may or may not appear in this story. Ohba and Obata own all the rest. Faulkner owns the quote.

* * *

"You're getting to be a man.  
You got to learn. You got to learn  
to stick to your own blood or you  
ain't going to have any blood to stick to you."

- Abner Snopes from William Faulkner's _Barn Burning_

Prologue - "Appeal"

_"She loves me...She loves me not..."_

_The blond child watched curiously as pale yellow petals drifted slowly to the ground. It was odd enough that the redheaded boy had come outside, made even more odd by the fact that he was performing a ritual usually reserved to love-struck girls. He crouched by the bushes near the brick wall of the dorms, staring blankly ahead as he continued to pluck the petals from the stem. _

_"What are you doing?" Mello asked, making his way over to crouch down next to the younger child. "You never come outside, Matt." He glanced down at the goggles hanging around the boy's neck; they looked dull and dirty in the shadow of the building behind them._

_Slowly, chocolate brown eyes drifted down to the flower in his hands. There were only two petals left clinging to the stem. "My mother..." he murmured. He reached down and plucked another petal off. "She loves me..."_

_The blond boy tilted his head in curiosity, leaning forward to try and look the redhead in the eye. "What about her?" he asked, not bothering to hide the distaste in his voice. "Does this have something to do with Roger calling you into his office?"_

_Matt nodded unhurriedly and he plucked the last petal, finally looking up and meeting Mello's gaze. "She loves me not..."_

_The phone in the old man's office had started ringing that morning; the two boys had been playing on the steps at the time. Matt had finally convinced Mello that his video game action figures weren't just for babies and had been educating him on the backstory behind each character when Roger had interrupted them, requesting that he speak with Matt in private. _

_"My mother..." he repeated. "She's been declared innocent. But, Roger says there's something called an 'appeal' that she's waiting for."_

_"It means another trial," Mello instructed proudly. "Kind of like a do over."_

_"Or an extra life," Matt said with a small smile. _

_The blond grinned back, leaning back on his hands. "So, what's this got to do with you? Didn't you say they weren't allowed to come and get you?"_

_"Well..." The smaller child looked away, biting his lip nervously. "They said she was innocent."_

_"Technically, she would have been declared not guilty. It's not the same thing as innocent," the blond corrected, driven by youthful thoughtlessness. Matt shot him an irritated look and he flushed. "Sorry..."_

_"She's coming to take me home."_

_Mello suddenly tensed, eyes wide. "What?"_

_The redhead looked down at the flower again, his hands beginning to shake."S-she's coming here at the end of the week. She's going to take me back home."_

_The older boy froze, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. A few moments passed where neither said a thing and time seemed to have stopped between them._

_They had only just met, they had only just become friends. And now, his mother was..._

_"She can't do that!" Mello finally exclaimed. "You said she wasn't allowed!"_

_Matt pulled his knees to his chin, burying his face against the worn fabric of his pants. "B-but if she's i-innocent-" he hiccuped, suddenly overcome with distress. _

_Mello threw his arms around the small child. "She's not innocent!" he insisted, trying to hold back the tears that he felt he was too old for. Matt was the baby and Mello was his protector. Ever since the redhead had arrived two months ago, that was how it had been. _

_Mello was his role model, so grown up, so smart, so in control and composed. _

_Tiny hands wiped across wet cheeks as Matt looked up through shaggy auburn hair. "Bu-but they s-said-!"_

_"Who cares about what they say?! They don't know you! They don't care!" He took Matt roughly by the shoulders. "I don't want them to take you away!" _

_Both of them blushed, though neither really understood why._

_"I don't know what to do..." the redhead muttered as Mello pulled away, trying to regain his composure after his unexpected outburst. _

_"Well, what do _you_ want, then?"_

_Matt opened his mouth, but nothing came out. _

_Did he want to go back to his mother? Did he want to go back home? Would she stop hurting him if he asked? Would she be kinder now that his father was gone? _

_He looked down to the flower in his hand for an answer._

_But there were no more petals left to pick. _


	2. Lambs to the Fold

A/N: Phew! Now that the prologue is out of the way, into the story we go! I'll blabber on to you when chapter 2 comes around. Enjoy!  
**Don't forget to review!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. It belongs to Ohba and Obata. Big surprise.

* * *

Chapter 1 - Lambs to the Fold

It was the sound of running water that woke Matt from a deep and dreamless sleep one cold December morning, instead of Mello's usual poking and prodding and downright abuse.

The redhead groaned softly, rolling over onto Mello's side of the bed to gather up the remnants of warmth and the smell of chocolate and leather he always left behind. He smiled, nuzzling his face against the sheets as if it were his blond lover in the flesh.

Mello was rarely there when he woke up; molesting the bed sheets was simply a way to cope with an empty bed, something that the redhead had even grown fond of after so many solitary mornings. Even all the times Mello had caught him with his nose pressed into the sheets, teasing him about "fucking a pillow", could not deter him from it.

He had to confess that he enjoyed being able to stretch himself out across the bed, being able to toss and turn without getting an elbow in the side for it.

The redhead did just that, stretching his entire body until he was sprawled as far as he could go, laying spread-eagle on his stomach across the mattress with a silly grin.

He was doing his best to enjoy his time in bed before Mello forced him to get up and get dressed.

That was when he realized that his feet didn't reach the corners of the mattress like they normally did. This bed was bigger, a lot bigger than normal.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, squinting slightly as he adjusted to the early morning sunlight pouring into the room between open blinds.

This was not their shithole apartment. This apartment was much larger, with a bigger bed and clean furniture and a TV that looked brand new. That was when Matt remembered where he was.

They were back in England.

Muddled details of the night before slowly came back to him as his body began to register the slight chill in the air, curling up deep in the comforter to keep warm. Jet lag from two international flights in a row had worn them both out. He vaguely remembered the clock reading only 7:30 PM when they finally collapsed on the bed just last night. He had been running purely on the fuel from two energy drinks purchased at the airport and the sheer delight at finally being back in a familiar country.

Matt glanced over to the door from which the sound of running water originated, just across the bedroom where he assumed the bathroom was. Mello must have been in the shower.

Shivering lightly, Matt realized how lovely a hot shower sounded at that moment.

Or maybe, he began to think with a devilish grin, a nice, steamy romp with a certain blond.

He slid noiselessly from the bed and crept towards the bathroom, peeking in to find warm, moist air and Mello behind the glass shower door, currently busy scrubbing over his arms with a bar of soap. The redhead quietly snuck in, thankful that Mello had his back to him the entire time. It was difficult being quiet; Mello had ears like a fucking bat and Matt was having a hard time biting back the groan building in his throat at the sight of his lover's figure dripping with water.

"You know, you're not very stealthy."

Matt froze, caught halfway in the motion of sliding his boxers off.

"What gave me away?" he joked. He looked back over his shoulder to find that Mello wasn't even looking at him, his face turned up, eyes closed as he rinsed soap from his face, sopping blond hair plastered to creamy skin and wrinkled scars.

"Your shadow on the wall," he explained, snatching up the shampoo. Matt noted with some irritation that it was _his_ shampoo, specifically for red hair. Mello always used it because he claimed that he liked the way it smelled.

"Damn it, Mello, you're fucking impossible," the redhead complained as he fully removed his boxers, striding towards the shower where his friend was now lathering up his hair. "You've got to be the worst person to play hide and seek with."

"I wouldn't know," Mello said with a snobbish sneer, as if the game of hide and seek were far beneath him. He yelped in surprise when the shower door slid back and Matt jumped beneath the hot spray of water beside him. "Matt! I didn't say you could shower with me!"

Letting out a sigh of delight at the feeling of warm water running across his shoulders and down his back, he stepped closer to Mello and wrapped his arms around him, kissing the wet, soapy skin. Somehow, the blond even made soap suds taste sweet. "Since when have I ever listened to what you say?"

Mello scoffed, rolling his eyes."Do you mind? I'm trying to wash my hair," he snapped, standing rigid in Matt's arms, reaching up to sink his hands back into his hair. He made sure his arms stuck out as far as possible, hoping it would encourage the redhead to let go of him.

It didn't. If anything, Matt pressed closer, heat that had nothing to do with the shower bubbling up inside of him. "Geez, Mello, you finally get a shower with me and all you can think about is your fucking _hair_?"

"Just because you don't take care of yours doesn't mean that I have to look unkempt, too."

He jerked back as one of Mello's elbows came dangerously close to poking him in the eye, grabbing the nearly full bottle of shampoo sitting next to his own. "It would help if you used the _right shampoo_." He swung the bottle in front of his friend's face, earning a mouthful of bubbles in the process as Mello plopped a dallop of the suds onto his parted lips.

The blond broke into a fit of laughter as Matt began gagging and spluttering, pulling away to lean against the opposite side of the shower to spit the bubbles out, wiping a hand disgustedly over his mouth. These soapy bubbles did not taste sweet at all. They tasted...well, like soap. Even as he was choking up the shampoo lather, Matt had to admit that the sound of Mello's laughter reverberating off the bathroom walls was practically heavenly. The static laced sound of his voice over a cellphone just couldn't compare.

He was even a little sad when the laughter promptly cut off as Matt pressed him to the tile wall of the shower, kissing him feverishly. It had been far too long since they had last been this close.

Mello's lips were irresistibly soft as Matt gently tugged at them with his teeth, earning a small whimper from the blond.

At first, it had seemed that Mello was going to give in, that he was going to melt in his arms the way he always did during the rare occasions when he caught him off guard. However, he gasped in shock when Mello suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder, throwing him off balance with a shove. His hands flailed out for a moment, seeking for something to grasp, to keep him from tumbling into the glass doors. Mello's hand closed down on his wrist and, with a feral grin, shoved him harshly against the wall, jarring his back against the tile.

"Fuck, Mello, you always play so rough - ah!" The redhead cried out as teeth nipped into his neck, before a warm tongue darted out to soothe the bite. The entire course of events made Matt's head spin deliriously, his eyes fluttering shut with a low moan as he felt Mello's hand brush over his hardening member. That lovely laughter resounded in his ear once more and Matt thought his heart might simply burst from his chest right then and there.

That feeling helped to ease the disappointment that flowered in him when the blond quickly darted out of the shower, leaving Matt to wash by himself. The head of dripping red hair peeked around the shower door, giving a melodramatic frown as his lover began to towel himself off.

"Hurry up and get clean now," Mello teased as he wrapped the towel around his waist. "You're quite filthy this morning, Matty."

He gave the redhead a victorious smirk before stalking out of the bathroom, his hips moving in a purposeful sashay the whole way.

* * *

Mello was no where to be found when Matt finally got out of the shower. There was a note sitting on the night stand that read "Out shopping. Be back later. Stay put. - M".

He didn't have to wait long for him to return. Just as he sat down in front of the TV to set up his game systems, the blond was walking through the front door, a plastic grocery bag hanging from his hand. The gamer greeted him with a small wave from his spot on the floor before turning back to the mess of cables before him, pretending that he hadn't noticed the frown that he was being given.

"I wish you would have left those things behind," he complained.

"You've got a better chance of getting me to quit smoking." Matt produced his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket, as if inspired by the statement. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and soft, golden hair barely brushing over his ear as the older man leaned down to speak to him.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" Mello's breath ghosted over his neck, sending shivers down his spine. He mentally noted to never challenge the ex-Mafioso at laser tag, paint ball, or any game that required any amount of stealth. The blond had crossed the room so noiselessly, it was almost dangerous.

He shook his head, slowly leaning back until he was resting against Mello's legs, lighting up the cigarette he had placed between his lips. He gave a small smile, looking up at his friend with half-lidded eyes filled with contentment and relaxation. He would have normally had to wait until the evening hours to be able to get this close to Mello, after any and all work had been completed. It was a refreshing change of pace to be greeted with the prospect of actually being able to eat breakfast with his lover.

"Why didn't we ever go on vacation before?" he asked, slipping an arm loosely around Mello's thigh. The leather was cool against his palm, still slightly chilled from the winter air outside.

The gentle smile that graced the blond's lips faltered slightly. "This isn't a vacation, Matt. You said you had something that you wanted to do here."

"No, you tried to send me away," he corrected, immediately regretting the topic. He looked away to exhale a cloud of smoke. "I just dragged you along with me."

Gloved fingers squeezed his shoulder a little tighter. "Matt, you still haven't told me why you wanted to come here."

The redhead looked down, suddenly very intent on the complex crisscross of wires before him. "It's not very important. Just some places I wanted to go, people to see."

Mello had his back turned to him before he could completely comprehend it, striding away into the kitchen. "No," he bit out tersely.

Matt's eyes widened, fearing that his true reasons for wanting to come back had somehow been figured out. "You don't even know what you're saying no to!" he exclaimed, setting his cigarette in the ashtray on the nightstand before jumping up to follow. He found Mello was more agreeable when he wasn't getting smoke blown in his face every thirty seconds. If he wanted to get his way, his smoke break would have to wait.

Mello was unpacking groceries onto the counters when the redhead finally caught up to him in the kitchen. "We're not going back to Wammy's, Matt."

Matt let out an inward sigh of relief; Wammy's was only one of the many places he wanted to go that he was sure Mello would disapprove of, but it was certainly not the most dangerous to suggest, nor the most difficult to sway his friend on. He watched as the blond set out a loaf of bread and a small tub of butter. He attempted a smile as he wrapped his arms around the older man, resting his chin on his shoulder. "Please, Mello?"

"No."

"It'll only be for a little while-"

"No."

"-and I promise I'll be quick about it-"

"No."

"-You won't even have to go in-"

"_No_."

"-and you can just sit in the car-"

"_No!_"

"-and I'm at least allowed to go back and see the only home I have!"

Mello wheeled around, eyes blazing with warning. "Matt, I said no."

"Yeah, you say a lot of things," he muttered, leaning forward to press his cheek to his lover's. "And most of it is complete bullshit."

Mello was completely still in the redhead's arms, an exhausted expression on his face. He felt a sliver of remorse for denying Matt's request, but selfishly, his own inclinations, or in this case a lack thereof, were taking priority.

"Please, Mello," Matt whispered, low and serious.

He was practically begging now; Mello could hear the desperate tone in his voice. Silence stretched between them for an endless moment and Mello could feel his friend growing more and more distant until, even though he was looking right at him, it was as if Matt were thousands of miles away, retreating deep into his own mind.

It felt cold and insulting to both of them, being in an embrace that didn't exist, when physical contact was nothing more than that. There was nothing beneath their hands, nothing in their stance, nothing in their minds other than stubborn, selfish pride.

Matt held back a vicious shiver that was threatening to spread through him. The chilling passiveness of the situation was disturbingly familiar.

Silence smothered them, thick and heavy, until it was broken as Matt released a quiet, shuddering breath, his head falling forward to rest on Mello's shoulder.

Mello sensed the unease that crept between them, more powerful and vicious than the quiet that came before. He recognized it immediately, a deadly beast that he had fought for years to put to rest between them pulling at it's chain, snapping at the bars holding it back. He reached up to thread his fingers into auburn hair tickling his cheek. "Matt-"

Matt took a quick step back, forcing a smile as he straightened. "If you don't go, I'll just have to go by myself then."

Mello felt his chest constrict in frustration and anxiety. He didn't want Matt to go off by himself, he didn't want to sit in an empty apartment all day, he didn't want to spend his hours pondering where he was and what he was doing and if he was alright.

He didn't want to start imagining all the possible reasons why he might not make it home.

"Are they healing well?" he asked, quickly changing the topic. He slid his gloved hands up the stripe covered arms, palms drifting hesitantly, carefully over the fabric.

Matt's smile fell and he frowned deeply, inching his arms slowly out of Mello's grip. "Are you asking me with the intent to use it against me?" He winced as the hands around his forearms tightened sharply.

Mello leaned forward with an evil smirk. "And if I said 'yes'?" He pressed into Matt's body, hoping to get any thoughts of Wammy's or the past out of his lover's head. If he could not convince him to forget the notion with words, perhaps he would be able to distract him with sex.

His hopes were dashed as Matt firmly held his ground, looking away with a resentful scowl as he shoved his sleeves up for the blond to see the thin, healing scars across his arms. "There," he said, taking the slightest step back. "Go ahead, I know you're going to give me an earful about it."

However, instead of beginning a long and drawn-out guilt trip, Mello turned towards the counter and pulled out eggs, bacon, and milk from the bag on the counter. "Put these in the fridge for me."He turned to shove the groceries into Matt's arms.

"Yeah...okay," the redhead mumbled, looking confused. Mello was becoming harder and harder to read. He wandered to the refrigerator which, he discovered, was completely empty. Before today, the only food in the apartment had been chocolate and a bag of chips from an in-flight meal. It would be nice to finally have some real food.

Even so, Matt noticed as he closed the refrigerator that the plastic grocery bag was now empty. He hoped that Mello didn't intend for them to live exclusively off bacon and eggs and milk.

"You'll want me to go shopping again tonight, won't you?" he asked tiredly as he turned back to the blond, who was currently in the process of sliding two pieces of bread into the toaster.

"Keep them up," Mello abruptly ordered as Matt reached to pull his sleeves down over his arms. "And not for the reason you're thinking," he added as he turned around to face his friend once more.

The gamer begrudgingly complied, brusquely shoving his sleeves all the way up and muttering darkly as Mello left briefly to hang his coat up by the door. "And what exactly am I thinking?" he asked defiantly as the older man returned.

"You're thinking that I'm a cruel, sadistic bastard," Mello answered bluntly, languidly stretching his arms above his head, arching his back slightly as he craned his neck. Matt vaguely heard a few pops in the blond's shoulders as he watched muscle ripple liquidly beneath flesh and leather, like white silk and melted chocolate. The redhead realized that his eyes had begun to wander and looked up to see that Mello had noticed as well, judging by the sly grin he was wearing.

"So, you're saying you're not a cruel, sadistic bastard?" He made sure the sarcasm in his voice was prominent.

"No, no, I am," Mello said, stepping up to his lover, reaching up to cup his cheeks in his hands. Matt inhaled sharply at the unexpected sensation of leather on his cheeks, at the warmth and tenderness in Mello's smile, at the genuine, somehow chaste kiss he received. "It's not about torture," he whispered against the gamer's lips. "It's not about cruelty." Fingertips trailed down his neck, over black and red stripes, pausing at the scarred forearms, running his thumbs over the discolored skin, over the areas banded with red, over the sensitive, aching spots, stopping only when Matt hissed in pain. "I'd forgotten how careful I have to be with you."

Matt rolled his eyes as a blush crept up his cheeks. He was being pinned against one of the counters now as Mello kept pressing forward, bit by bit. Though seduction was clearly no longer the primary intent, he still felt a bolt of excitement shoot through him as the counter's edge wedged itself between his vertebrae. "You don't have to be careful with-"

Another kiss cut him off, simple yet powerful. So much meaning and promise and apology was packed into it, leaving his pulse fluttering and his head in a daze. Yet, there was hunger in it as well, the same that Matt had felt in the shower, the same insatiable need that he knew Mello felt as well.

They met each other's gaze and slowly, the unspoken sentiments began passing back and forth, vows that they would take care of each other from now on, promises that they would take care of themselves on their own.

"I won't keep taking and taking from you," the blond finally said, transforming the look in his eyes into words. "I'm not going to bleed you dry again." Matt finally released the tremors building at the base of his spine. "Look at you," the blond practically purred, gently caressing Matt's jaw. "I've almost broken you already." He paused, eyes scanning his lover's features slowly, noting every twitch in his body, every hitch in his breath, every detail that told Mello more about what was going on inside his friend's head than words ever could. "Matt...have you been thinking about them?"

The younger man scoffed lightly, jerking his head away from Mello's hand. "Stop it," he snapped, feeling nauseous. He was too accustomed to being treated roughly, without a great deal of care or thought.

Careful Mello was too much. Apologetic Mello was almost unbearable. The gloved fingers, soft and delicate on his bare skin, felt like sharp knives prodding harshly at raw nerves.

"Like Hell, I will," Mello snarled, grabbing Matt's chin, tenderness quickly forgotten. "You've got something in your head that's been driving you to do this."

"Hey, I've cut myself because of you before," the redhead growled. His arms tensed under Mello's hands, ready to throw off the hands that held him if necessary. "So, what makes you think you know what the fuck is going on now?"

For a split second, Matt could have sworn that his friend actually looked hurt, but it disappeared so quickly from his eyes that it would simply be remembered as nothing but a trick of the light.

"Is it me, then?"

Matt froze, taken aback at the defeated tone of Mello's voice. Emerald eyes kept drifting over his face, pinning him in place. Even now, they were still the same as when they were children, eyes that commanded authority, eyes that could capture his attention in an instant, eyes that dared and challenged and pushed him in all the ways that he hated and cherished all in the same moment.

They were eyes that left him speechless.

"I'd hope you'd tell me if it were," the blond said quietly, leaning forward to press his lips to the soft spot of skin beneath Matt's earlobe. This time, the redhead could hear that Mello was wounded by his statement. "I'd hope you would have told me as soon as it started. I'd hope you had more faith in me, Matt."

"I- I didn't mean it like that," Matt stammered.

"Say what you mean, then," Mello snapped.

An irritated groan escaped the gamer's lips as he leaned his head back against the cupboards. "I fucking followed you across the world chasing after an insane murderer with a God complex and I've never once regretted it. I'd say I've got more faith in you than you deserve."

"You've got a funny way of showing it, trying to hide this shit from me."

Matt pushed off of the counter, making Mello take a quick step back, though his hands held tight to the redhead's arms, keeping Matt from striding forward any further. "Look, I'm fucking done!" he exclaimed. "I was stressed, I fixed it, I've healed, it's finished! I don't need to give you a reason!"

"Yes, that's smart," the blond spat. "Let's simply push it aside until it happens again and again and again. Go ahead, I _adore_ watching you bleed all over the bathroom floor and turn as white as a fucking sheet."

Matt could nearly taste the anger and fury in Mello's words, bitter and sharp with a scalding sensation down his throat, like drinking boiling lead. He looked away from his lover who was glaring up at him, unable to take the sinking feeling in his stomach any longer.

He was not trying to be cruel or secretive or mistrusting, but he knew of no way to say this to Mello. Anything spoken would be ignored, rejected, passed off as some patronizing attempt to console the both of them. "It's not your fault," he muttered hopelessly.

The blond was silent for a few moments before answering. "What is it then?" he asked, sounding slightly relieved.

What was it?

It was fear.

Fear of letting Mello down, fear of being abandoned once more, fear that the walls of his tiny room in LA were closing in on him, fear of a dark house with dingy windows and torn curtains and pipes that clattered loudly in the basement, fear of being a nuisance, a bother, an annoyance.

Fear of them. Fear of his mother and father.

Mello had been right, he knew what it was that had haunted Matt's thoughts during those long, tedious days in LA and during the even longer, lonely, terrifying nights that seemed to never end.

"You already know what it is," he said, voice breaking slightly as his hands gripped the counter's edge.

"Why now?" The words almost seemed to spill from Mello's lips, as if he spoke them before having a chance to think about it. "You haven't let this bother you for years. You said you'd moved on," he added, as if to make up for letting the question slip out.

"You wouldn't understand."

Mello laughed softly, the sound weak and deeply pained.

"You're right, I wouldn't understand."

Matt jumped at the sound of the bread popping up from the toaster, eyes wide as he looked around, as if the sound had snapped him out of some sort of trance. He barely registered Mello's arms sliding around his neck, bringing him into a tight hug. He vaguely felt gloved fingers twining in his hair, their cheeks pressed together, his own arms sliding around the slim waist of their own accord. It all happened slowly, almost dreamlike.

"We're not done with this," Mello stated firmly in his ear. "Tonight, we're taking care of it. It's not going to happen again, do you understand?"

"I don't think-"

The arms around his neck squeezed a little tighter and the voice in his ear was more urgent, more desperate. "I've let you stay with me, I brought you here, I did this for you. Now...please, do this for me."

Matt chuckled quietly, burying his face against his lover's neck. "You are a cruel bastard, Mello," he murmured. "Taking advantage of the fact that I can never say 'no' to you."

He wanted to stay like that for a little while, to revel in the feeling of being close to his friend, of simply being able to hold him and smell him and see him, but Mello pulled away to walk over to the toaster.

"Get your coat and get ready to leave," he said as he grabbed up his piece of toast, only to throw it away without a single bite.

"What for?" Matt asked.

"It's an hour and a half drive to Winchester, so we should leave now." When he received a confused look from the redhead, he went over and put a hand on the back of his neck, kissing him firmly. "You won't be the same while you've got this on your mind," he explained. "I want you thinking of something else. Whatever makes you happy, just name it. What do you want, Matt?"

Matt smiled. "I want to go home, Mello."

* * *

"Give me a large of whatever you've got with chocolate in it to go."

The smiling woman behind the cafè counter hesitated for a moment. "Well, we have our drink descriptions on the board-" She cut off, her permanent smile broke for only a moment as Mello gave her a sharp look behind his oversized sunglasses. She cleared her throat and turned to the register. "Right, one large Cocoa Loco to go." She blushed as the blond snorted softly at the ridiculously corny beverage name. "Would you like whipped cream and sprinkles on that?"

He sighed heavily in exasperation. "Surprise me..." He handed the woman the money for the drink and turned to Matt, standing behind him. The redhead had his head bowed over his PSP, the eyes behind his orange goggles focused intently on the game screen. "Would you turn that thing off? That damn clicking and beeping is getting annoying."

"Just a sec," the gamer automatically replied, not bothering to look up. He knew Mello was probably glaring at him.

The blond debated simply taking the game from him, but he knew Matt always carried more than one system around with him. It would only be a temporary fix to the problem; it would do them no good in the long run.

Normally, he wouldn't have cared. Unless he had asked Matt to do something for him, he allowed the redhead to play as long as he wanted. It kept him happy, it kept him quiet, it kept him occupied.

But he could see that, today, the game wasn't for entertainment. Matt was trying to distract himself. Something was bothering him, as if there were something he wanted to confess or ask or admit to. He kept avoiding Mello's eyes, kept biting his lip and fidgeting in the car. He kept blocking questions with insults and retorts, as if he were trying to persuade Mello to leave him alone. The blond could think of nothing that may have been distressing his lover, nothing that seemed odd or out of place or different, except...

"Matt, why did you want to come back?"

The goggled eyes looked up at him for a split second. "I already told you. I wanted to go back to Wammy's."

The older man clicked his tongue in annoyance. "We both know that's not the _only_ reason. Seriously, Matt, what the hell were you thinking about back there?" When he received no answer, he snatched the game from his friend's hands, forcing him to look up.

The look in Matt's eyes was one that Mello hadn't seen since they were children, open and vulnerable and downright scared and all poorly disguised behind a veil of fatigue and surrender.

He wasn't sure he wanted an answer anymore.

Hands empty, the redhead reached for his cigarettes to give himself something to do. "Can we not talk about this here?" he asked as he lit up, even though he had clearly seen the large no smoking signs posted all about the little shop.

"We have to talk about it at some point. When do you propose?"

"Never, preferably." He pocketed his lighter with a bitter expression. Matt could see the muscles of Mello's jaw tighten as he clenched his teeth together.

"I might actually have considered that if you hadn't started acting like a bastard," he hissed quietly, menacingly.

It was definitely a threat Matt knew he had thrown himself right out onto thin ice. The cold edge to Mello's words were telling him 'Don't attack me and I won't have reason to attack you.' He could sense both of their patience quickly waning and realized that, if pushed far enough, the blond wouldn't be above throwing a punch at him, even in a public place like the coffee shop they were currently standing in.

To avoid injury rather than mollify his friend, he turned his attention to the PSP clutched in Mello's fist. "Can I have that back?" he asked, extending his hand out.

The game disappeared into the pocket of the leather jacket. "What do you think?" Mello spat before turning his back to him, drumming his fingers on the counter. The barista who had taken his order immediately noticed and quickened her pace, looking intimidated.

Her apprehension turned to vexation, however, when her eyes landed on the redhead who was amusing himself by blowing cigarette smoke at the back of Mello's head out of malice. "Sir, you can't smoke in here! You're going to have to go outside!"

Matt looked around the coffee shop, eyeing the empty tables and booths. "Come on, there's no one else here," he said with a lopsided grin. "I'm with him anyway, so I won't be here much longer."

The woman's frown deepened. "It's the law, sir," she snapped. "Smoking is prohibited in all public places!"

Matt sneered, flicking his ashes onto the floor. "Alright, I got it, I'll leave!" Mello watched him saunter outside and stop on the sidewalk, staring up at the snow that had begun to fall.

The fog of his breath mingled with cigarette smoke as he slowly shifted from foot to foot, hands sunk deep in his pockets. To passersby he was simply enjoying watching the snowfall, but really, he was bracing himself for the conversation he knew he would be having with Mello the minute they got back in the car.

It would be pointless to lie about it, he'd already been found out back in the kitchen. He could pass it off as a suggestion, but he knew that the blond would still react badly.

He leaned against the store front window and took a deep drag as he realized his current predicament.

He was completely fucked.

"Next time, you'll turn it off when I tell you," Mello warned when he finally stepped out of the coffee shop. He handed the redhead his PSP before getting back into the car.

"Yeah," he muttered, climbing in next to him. "Sorry."

He knew he was lucky to be getting his game back in one piece, and luckier still to be getting it back at all. Mello had confiscated many a system from him in the past, never to be returned.

As they pulled away from the curb, Matt's face set back into a scowl. "What the hell is wrong with people?" he griped, switching his game back on, this time setting it to mute. "I'll smoke wherever the hell I want to, it wasn't like I was bothering anyone."

"Second hand smoke can cause cancer, Matt." Mello tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. "So, are you going to tell me why you've suddenly started acting so fucking moody?"

The gamer let out a bark of laughter. "That's rich, coming from the guy with a chocolate fetish and mood swings from Hell. If I didn't know better, I'd say you had permanent PMS." He looked up from his game, pretending he didn't notice the way the blond's gloves creaked as his hands tightened in fury on the steering wheel. "I mean, you don't care, right? About my smoking, I mean."

"No, Matt," the older man clipped. "I don't. Now stop changing the fucking subject."

"I wasn't." He was and they both knew it.

Neither of them spoke as Mello continued to drive. The only sounds were fingers moving over the buttons on the PSP and the occasional sipping of coffee.

Matt shifted uncomfortably in his seat; he knew Mello was waiting for him to make the first move, that he had already figured out that his suggestion was going to be displeasing, that it was something that neither of them really wanted to hear.

"Don't forget to make coffee tomorrow morning," the blond finally said. "This tastes like shit." He gave the cup a venomous look. "Do I even seem remotely close to the type of person who would want fucking _sprinkles_ on my coffee?"

The gamer sunk even lower in his seat, realizing that Mello was talking more to himself than to him. "Hey, Mello, do you ever wonder what it'd be like if we never ended up at Wammy's?"

A gloved hand paused for a moment in the process of tipping his cup back. Green eyes glanced down at Matt beside him for a few seconds and the younger man bent his head further down, trying to block his face from the penetrating gaze. He was never good at initiating conversations with people. If he ever had the desire to speak with someone, he tended to start with a question. Over the years, he had found that people were more eager to talk with him if he were asking for information. It was a protection, a way to avoid feeling like a waste of time to others.

Soon, Mello turned his gaze back to the road before them. "You mean if our parents just dropped us on the street?"

Matt pulled his goggles off slowly, gazing up cautiously at his friend. "No, I mean if we were never dropped off in the first place..." He immediately looked away as Mello's brow furrowed deeply with a glower.

"How the fuck should I know?" he snapped, though the redhead could tell that a great deal of contempt was being held back. "I don't even remember my parents, let alone what it was like living with them."

Matt busied himself by focusing out of the window, trying to keep his eyes on the image of his face reflected in the glass, even as buildings and other cars zipped past outside. He began to feel dizzy after only a few moments. "They should have all the information in your file. Didn't Roger ever show you?"

"I never wanted to know." Mello looked back over the younger man again. It was becoming increasingly difficult to control his temper when Matt was acting as if he weren't even listening to him. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Dunno," he grunted as he flicked his cigarette butt out of the window. "I've just been thinking about what it would have been like-"

"You'd be dead by now, Matt," Mello cut in. The redhead scoffed and all of a sudden, he felt like reaching over and taking him by the shoulder, if only to close some of the distance between them. "You would be."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "I'm better off and all...but I do wonder sometimes."

Mello's cheeks flushed as Matt's hand slid across the front seat and onto his leg, fingers lightly tracing over his knee. "Matt," he said resolutely, causing the wandering digits on his thigh to come to an abrupt halt. "Why are we back here?"

Slowly, almost reluctantly, the redhead pulled his hand back. Mello heard him give a heavy sigh, but kept his eyes forward, knowing that if he even so much as glanced at his lover, he would cave and never get a straight answer.

Matt watched him for a moment, stupidly hoping that, by some miracle, the blond might simply decide to drop the subject, that divine grace might actually allow him to weasel out of giving an answer.

Apparently, God was not on his side because, after a minute or so passed, Mello was still waiting for a response. He slid his goggles back on and lit another cigarette for courage, turning back to his game in the hopes that it might defend him from the inevitable onslaught of yelling and squabbling that was soon to come. Then, he took a deep breath, before speaking.

"I've been thinking of visiting my mum and dad."


	3. Alright

A/N: Ha! Alright, so this chapter was officially the most daunting to write. At least so far, but then again, we're only three chapters in. Still, I had a hell of a time writing this. It's...a lot of stuff to deal with, I thought. I had to make sure to get Matt and Mello's characters just right in a lot of different scenarios.  
**Attention:** To all you language sticklers, as well as English teachers and profs. I understand that the spelling of "alright" is non standard and that there is technically no differentiation between all right and alright, besides the fact that the latter is not technically correct. However, to each his own. So please, bear with me.  
Man, the response to this has been great! I wanna thank everyone who provided feedback and read the prologue and first chapter. A special thank you to those who reviewed: Sandaa, jennafurr freeed, narni4eva, Trinny Dream, Demon Hiei's Girl, Hitoshi-chan, twentyfiveraven, chrono-contract, Kiogy, Moot-kun, Living in a fantasy, and kikyo1027. I'd also like to thank mrsjeevas and ima-chan from the lj community for their comments. Honestly, guys, your reviews have been fantastic. A few of them really stuck out to me and gave me some very meaningful feedback, especially those from Hitoshi-chan, twentyfiveraven, and mrsjeevas. Please keep it coming! It's really quite helpful. Now, enjoy chapter 2! And don't forget...**please read and review!**

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. I only own a DN shirt and a messenger bag (which I'm immensely excited about!). Ohba and Obata own Death Note.

* * *

Chapter 2 - Alright

Alright -  
adjective;  
satisfactory but not especially good; acceptable; (of a person) in a satisfactory mental or physical state.

_Silence. _

_That was what undid him every time. That horrid, unbearable silence._

_It made the only soft noises in their apartment unavoidable, inescapable, almost taunting; the muffled gasps and painful whimpers and useless pleas spoken into the scratched and worn wood floors, and the heavy breathing and cursing from above._

_"Please, Mello," Matt said, feeble and desperate. "Stop it, please!"_

_"Shut the fuck up," was the reply, spoken in a gasp as a hand reached down and roughly grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. _

_He couldn't take it, couldn't stand the disgusting routine, how it went from putting his arms up to defend himself, to being forced to the floor, to being fucked hard and raw. He desperately wished something would happen, something other than this. He wished he had left the television on when Mello came home, so he could listen to the sounds of game shows while he got fucked in the ass. He wished the people next door would start arguing again, or that the people one floor up would have another party so he didn't have to hear the sound of skin slapping and sliding together. Maybe an accident would happen just outside. Then, he could listen to the screeching of tires, the screaming of onlookers, the sobbing of mothers and children and broken families. The police sirens would wail and the rest of the world would feel miserable and he would smile because bad things were happening to everyone else. _

_And he would be happy, because he would no longer hear the sound of his heart beating in his chest or his lungs as they took in air. Because every palpitation and breath that sounded in his ears meant another moment he was still alive, still conscious, still Mello's dog, his bitch. _

_A tear slid down his cheek, but the sobs that were meant to follow remained in his throat, trapped behind tightly closed lips. He refused to cry, refused to scream, refused to let Mello laugh and hit him. _

_His hands were clawing at the floorboards, tearing his fingers until they were raw and bloody. He didn't dare look back at the blond behind him, pounding mercilessly into his ass, hands tight and unrelenting on already bruised hips. Instead, he distracted himself by following the wood grain in the floor._

_They were dripping in sweat, but the room was cold and still. The entire apartment was dead, it was a cemetery for the two soulless corpses that regularly fucked there every weekend. _

_It ended the way it always did. Mello came, arching over him with a quick shudder, before draping himself over Matt's sweaty, scarred back, running his fingers through the auburn locks, leaning down to whisper into his ear. _

_"Good boy..."_

_Yes, good boy. He was a good boy, he let Mello fuck him every weekend. He stayed in the apartment, even knowing that at the end of the week, this would be waiting for him. At any moment on Saturday, the deadly weapon named Mello would stride in through the front door and, no matter how much he fought, clothes were lost, hands were bound, legs spread and face pressed roughly against the floor to muffle the protests that were strewn throughout. _

_Then Mello would come, and Matt, not turned on in the slightest, would lie wherever the blond had subdued him in a filthy heap, sore and scared and filled with fury and disgust. _

_As always, the leather clad God of destruction would stumble to the bathroom and cursing, screaming, and the sound of things being thrown and smashed and kicked would mask Matt's quiet crying, gingerly nursing his wounds and trying to convince himself to leave._

_Mello reminded him of his father, a man who would greet him with a ruffling of his hair when he came home from work and then get drunk and tie him to the headboard or lock him in the closet or hang him by his wrists from the pipes in the basement when he misbehaved. A man who always told him to say please and thank you and gave him a candy when he did, and then forced him to beg, plead, offer up his own life in exchange for ending the torture, to admit that he was a "bad boy" and that he needed to be punished. _

_No, Mello _was_ his father. He greeted him with a pat on the head in the mornings, then fucked him senseless, ignoring the screams and crying. He would handcuff him to the bed, gag him, leash him, choke him, and mock him, until the blond would come and then he'd be a "good boy."_

_'Yes, I'm a good boy.'_

_That was why he stayed, because for once in his life, he was "good" and obedient and, in some sick, twisted, maniacal way that probably only existed in Matt's wistful dreams, loved. _

_Mello loved him, or at least, he had to. _

_He knew he wasn't the only one crying each night, knew he wasn't the only one made sick to his stomach by what they had created. _

_This was their life, what they had been given, what they'd made out of the pitiful scraps of love tossed their way. All they could do was trade the little love they had back and forth until they grew tired of it and lost themselves in pain and anger and frustration. Then they would start anew, handing each other words that meant nothing, the same sayings and sentiments that they had both heard hundreds of times before._

_Any signs of affection that occurred, maybe a quick hug, a kiss that wasn't composed of hunger, even the slightest touch on the shoulder or head, all of it was empty, fake, an act._

_It was a ruse, the equivalent of some awful fringe theater production._

_If there was indeed any love in that apartment, it was horribly forced, something they saw as a burden that they were compelled by this life to bear. _

_There was no love in the sex. There could never be love in something so frenzied and ravenous and gluttonous. Even when he was finally left alone on Monday morning, staring up at the ceiling with a lost expression, he was thankful that the look that possessed Mello's face during those frantic fucking sessions was not a look of affection._

_Perhaps this was some sort of punishment for being such a greedy child, for never being useful, for wasting space and time. Now, finally, he was useful. He was Mello's tool, and he was a good boy._

_A good dog._

_"Good dog..." he mumbled weakly as Mello reappeared from the bathroom. This time, he brought along his tools: the handcuffs to make him heel and sit and stay; the belt to mark him and make him speak; the lighter from the discarded pants on the floor to make him roll over and do tricks. _

_"Yes," Mello whispered as he locked the handcuffs around Matt's wrists. "Very good dog..."_

_And Matt let out a bark of pain and agony as the belt came down onto his back with a loud _crack!

* * *

"You're an idiot, Matt, you know that?"

"Yes, you've said that already."

And it was all he had said, four times over during the drive to Winchester.

"Well, apparently it hasn't gotten through to you," Mello snapped. He kept tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, replacing the sound of Matt's PSP that had been turned off an hour ago. "Did you even stop to fucking think about this?"

Matt threw his hands up in irritation. "I've _been_ thinking about it! That's what I said! Do you ever listen to me?!"

The blond threw him a cold look, but said nothing more until they had finally reached the orphanage.

Matt made no movement to get out of the car when it came to a stop. He was staring at Mello, awaiting some sort of reaction, but the older man wasn't looking at him. He was leaning an elbow against the door, resting his chin in his hand, looking frustrated. "Well?" the redhead tentatively asked.

"Well what?" he snapped, his voice like the crack of a whip.

Matt cleared his throat awkwardly. The blond's tone had smarted a little. "What do you think?"

Mello finally turned his head to look at him, a frown of displeasure on his lips. "You're a grown man, Matt. You can do whatever the hell you want."

"Pft. We both know that's shit."

Mello turned away again, his irritation evident. "I'm not going to stop you, if that's what you're asking. But I do think it's absolutely ridiculous and stupid and thoughtless."

"Come on, Mello," the redhead implored. "They're my parents."

"You'll forgive me if I have no sympathy for them," the blond spat. "This is childish, Matt."

Matt bristled indignantly. "How the hell is this _childish_? I'd say I'm being pretty damn mature, facing my mum and dad."

Mello rolled his eyes, heaving an exasperated sigh. "Every child thinks they're mature. If you're doing this for pity or something, it's a fucking stupid way to go about it."

The redhead gaped at him, looking incredulous. "When did I ever say I wanted pity? Jesus, Mello, where the hell are you coming from with this shit?"

Matt was beginning to get worked up, but Mello seemed calmer than ever. Pissed, but calm. "Just get out of the fucking car, Matt," he said tightly.

"So you can get away with acting like a prick, but I can't?"

The blond was no longer leaning against the door, he had straightened to sit rigidly in his seat. "We're not talking about this now." The color was beginning to rise in his face, a steady wave of angry red.

"You might not be, but I am!" the redhead shouted, leaning over across the front seat, practically right in Mello's face now. He knew he was pushing it, that he was pressing his luck. The blond looked quite ready to snap, a bloodthirsty look appearing in his eyes. Was he really holding back that much resentment?

Still, the infuriated tension permeating the air kept goading the gamer on, provoking him into the offensive stance, spurring on the words that continued to seemingly leap, unstoppable, from his lips.

"I know what this is," he said slowly. "You're fucking jealous, aren't you?"

"Why the hell would I be jealous?" If Matt had been thinking entirely clearly, he would have heard the incredibly frigid tone in Mello's voice that was telling him very firmly to shut his mouth and back off. However, he hadn't heard it and simply kept on going.

"It wasn't because my parents didn't want me," he continued, oblivious to the way the gloved hands on the steering wheel were flexing with restrained rage. "My parents _couldn't_ have me. But yours-" He cut off, eyes widening.

Mello had suddenly leapt at him, pinning him to the passenger's side door, pressing the barrel of his gun to the gamer's forehead. "Shut the hell up, right now," he ordered, voice chillingly hostile. "Do you hear me?"

Matt nodded quickly. He suddenly discovered he was shaking. He had never seen Mello look more deathly serious.

A moment later, however, as if suddenly realizing what he was doing, his expression abruptly shifted and there was finally some warmth in his eyes again. Matt let out the nervous breath he had been holding in.

"Let's get this straight," the blond began, putting the gun back in the waistband of his leather pants. He kept his hold on Matt's shoulders, though his grip was much more relaxed and far less foreboding. "Your parents are nothing but scum to me. If I could, I'd kill them myself." He leaned in closer, the look in his eyes softening as his hands slid slowly down the front of Matt's jacket. The younger man gently took them in his own, an attempt to patch up the rift they had just cut between themselves. "You don't need them, Matt. We've made it this far, so we can make it the rest of the way without them too. My parents..." He paused, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts together. "My parents can go to Hell. They didn't want me, and I don't want them. I don't care about them." Mello leaned forward to kiss his lover and Matt let him, despite the crick in his neck he was getting from being shoved so awkwardly against the side of the car, despite the fact that he knew that it would take a hell of a lot more than a kiss to fix this.

He knew Mello was lying, or maybe he didn't realize he was lying. He cared about his parents, he cared about them more than anything.

After all, his parents had told him that he wasn't good enough to keep. Maybe that was what drove him to be number one, to prove to them that he _was_ good enough, that they'd be sorry they ever abandoned him.

"It's not for pity," he murmured as Mello finally released his mouth to let him breath. Somehow, one of the blond's hands had made it's way into his hair. Somehow, he had crawled across the seats until he was practically straddling the gamer. Somehow, they had managed to close a great portion of the gap between them with a single kiss. "I have to do it. If I don't..." He placed one of his hands over his own arm and smiled weakly. "It'll just keep happening. Just like you said."

He was doing it for strength, to prove that what Mello had said was right.

That he didn't need his parents anymore. That he had done just fine without them.

That he would _be_ fine without them.

Mello gave him one last kiss before climbing back over to his side of the car, trying to hide the smug smile that crept onto his face. "Go on, be quick about it."

"Are you sure you don't want to come in with me?"

"Very."

Matt looked out the car and eyed the gate that once seemed to tower hundreds of feet high, impossible to ever climb over. But, that was years ago. Now, it would be easy to simply scale the bars and jump over.

He gave a devilish grin. "Hey, Mello, how would you rate my breaking and entering skills?"

"Poor," the blond responded flatly. "Why?"

"No reason, just thought I'd test Roger's security measures."

* * *

As he stared over his cup of tea at the old man sitting across the desk from him, Matt realized that it had never been harder to keep from laughing and look apologetic.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you like this, Mr. Jeevas," Roger began, looking cross. "I would ask that next time you refrain from climbing the gate and simply use the intercom."

Matt sipped at his tea, using it as a chance to think of a response. "Oh, you've got an intercom now?" He tried to smile in what he hoped was an innocent fashion. Judging by Roger's scowl, it wasn't. "Well, that's new." Another sip of tea as he looked up at the group of monitors lining one side of his office. "Seems you've really jumped into the technological age." Each one was recording a different part of the house: the front hall, the classrooms, the dorms, the back yard, the front yard, the street outside, all being filmed from various angles. On one monitor, he could see their car parked by the curb and a sour looking Mello sitting in the driver's seat. "How many alarms did you have going off when I climbed in?"

Roger noticed Matt staring at the blond on the screen. "Mr. Jeevas-"

"Matt, please."

The old man paused, slightly surprised. "You never seemed to take a liking to that name while you were here."

The redhead shrugged, setting his cup down on Roger's desk. In reality, he had not taken a liking to either his new name or his birth name. He had only allowed himself to be called Matt because Mello refused to call him anything else.

Roger cleared his throat quietly. "Well, Matt, I trust you'll understand my concern for increased security."

"Because of Kira?" he asked, leaning back in his chair, looking idly around the office. He had expected it would have been obvious to him about what to do when he arrived, but all of a sudden, he felt lost. He wasn't sure what to do first, what he wanted to see, and what he'd rather forget about. It was all bordering on a nostalgic overload.

"The times have changed, Matthew. This world is no longer safe as it was in the past." Roger was now stealing glances at the monitor as well, watching Mello carefully on the screen, as if he were trying to deduce what he might do. Matt couldn't remember having ever seen that sort of calculating look in Roger's eyes before.

The gamer smiled shyly, reaching for his tea again. "Don't worry, he won't be coming in."

"I think you overestimate Mello's patience, Matthew." He nodded to the monitor which was currently showing that the blond had gotten out of the car and stomped up to the gate. He paused at the bars though, pacing back and forth like some lion in a cage.

"Look, I know it seems really informal and everything, but could you just call me Matt?" He couldn't stand Matthew, or Mail, or Mr. anything. It all seemed so cold and unfriendly, especially hearing it coming from someone like Roger, the man who was nearly his father, the only person other than Mello who knew him in and out.

"Of course, just Matt then." The old man almost seemed to have difficulty saying it, as if he were breaking some unspoken social rule that the redhead across from him was unaware of. "Yes, these days are dangerous," he said in a wistful sigh. "It is tragic that we can no longer afford to trust our neighbors, not with the types of things in the world today."

Once or twice, Mello would stop at the intercom on the gate and he appeared as if he were about to call up to Roger to let him in, but would then turn away and resume his pacing. "Yeah, but the world's always been that way." He turned away from the monitor as Mello came to a halt, finally leaning against the gate with his arms crossed over his chest. To any onlooker, he seemed calm, as if he were just waiting patiently, but Matt knew that this particular stance of Mello's was screaming the exact opposite, the way his foot jiggled against the ground, the stiffness in his neck, the way his breaths were so methodically even. Roger was giving him an inquisitive look, so he continued. "I mean, it's not like _more_ people are doing bad things. In fact, thanks to Kira, there are fewer people committing crimes. The world's just more aware of it, that's all. More criminals are being caught, more crimes and cases being solved-" He cut off when he remembered who it was he was talking to. Roger was giving him a small smile as he drank his tea. "Ah, damn it, that was some sort of test, wasn't it?"

"What kind of institute would this be if it didn't make sure to keep it's alumni on it's toes every once in a while?" The old man was practically smirking at this point.

The redhead let out a weak laugh. "Can't believe I walked right into that one."

"It's not surprising." Roger was looking at the monitors again, though this time he didn't focus on any one in particular. "You always had a habit of refusing to demonstrate your knowledge unless you didn't know you were being evaluated."

Roger really was a crafty old bastard. He always seemed pretty senile when they were children. Then again, they were children. Children who were under the false impression that they knew and noticed everything.

"So, what exactly have you been up to since you left us?"

Another vague shrug from the redhead. "I've been with Mello. If you've heard his stories, you've pretty much heard mine."

The man turned away from the monitors with a frown. "So, you're partners?"

Matt paused before speaking, making sure to carefully choose his words. He wasn't sure how much Roger had figured out about them, but he was fairly sure he wasn't speaking in terms of sexual partners.

"I've been working for him, yeah," he finally responded, pulling his cigarettes from his jacket pocket out of routine. When he realized where he was, he replaced them, only to pull out his PSP instead.

It was a nervous habit and he was fully aware that it was giving him away. Even so, he turned the system on and began to play.

Roger was unfazed by the action, quite accustomed to it after years of conversations with the gamer. "Have you...been working on anything in particular?"

Suddenly, the room was stifling and the mood quickly deteriorated. Matt had heard the beginning of this pep talk a hundred times before.

"Just some hacking and surveillance work," he said, trying to make it sound as if it were something he didn't mind, something he chose to do, though both of them knew that it wasn't. "It's been enriching, really," he added, putting emphasis on the word that had been drilled into his head since he turned nine, back when his instructors were trying to persuade him to get more involved in his school work, to branch out a little.

"Have you been working on anything for yourself?" Roger had become an expert on how to gradually work his way to the truth, how to make Matt prove the old man's point for him. The redhead found it a little irritating.

"Yeah, sure. Like you said, Mello and me-" He hissed at the game in his hands as he tapped frantically on the buttons of his PSP. "Him and me, we're partners. So, you know, it's the both of us working."

Roger was quiet as he watched the young man across his desk, looking him over as if he were slowly piecing everything together. "Matt," he said softly as he set his tea down on the desk. "May I ask you a question?"

Matt looked up from his game, knowing it was the reason the old man had prefaced his question the way he did. He wasn't asking for Matt's permission, he was asking for his full attention.

"In all of my time here at this institution, I've never seen a child work harder to accomplish something for another person's benefit, while showing such disregard for their own potential as you."

"And you'd like to know why?"

"Yes, if it's not too much to ask."

"I don't really have anything to achieve." Roger opened his mouth to disagree, but Matt quickly continued. "You're right, I've got potential, I guess. But, I mean, every kid here, every kid that I grew up with, Near, Mello, they all did things they _liked_. Near likes to solve puzzles, so he solves crimes. Mello loves to win, so he tries to win against Kira."

"Then what's to stop you from doing the same?" Roger looked confused, but he sounded rather composed.

The redhead snorted and waved his PSP by his head. "I like video games, so I play them." He pulled his goggles over his eyes, making sure the entire image was clear and complete.

After a few moments, the old man finally spoke. "And that's it?"

"That's it. Do you see my point now?" He smirked. "I've figured out where working on my potential will get me. I'll have beaten every video game ever made and I'd be happy and the world would keep on it's merry way."

"Why work for Mello, then? Why not Near?"

"Why not Near?" Matt gazed at the old man for a few moments before answering. "Near's got a group of government agents and endless resources at his disposal. He's got privilege and priority. Mello...Mello doesn't have any of that. It's a little unfair, don't you think? I mean, after all, L never really chose between them, right?"

"Well, yes, but Near was still at the top of the rankings-"

"And he's still needed Mello's help on some of this," the redhead interrupted. "I'm just evening the playing field, if that's how you'd like to look at it."

Roger looked skeptical as he placed his arms up on the desk, his hands folded over one another. "You honestly wouldn't mind that Mello would take the credit for all of the help you may have given him?"

"Why would I mind?" he responded, looking back down at his PSP. "I don't care what the world thinks. He does. Works out great, doesn't it?" He looked up to see that Roger's brow was deeply furrowed as he looked back towards the monitors. He seemed to be debating how to best phrase his next statement. "Look, you can't ask me to start caring about what people think of me. You can't force me to want to aspire to be number one."

The old man had stopped listening to him though; his gaze was focused on the monitors where Mello had suddenly disappeared from the camera's view. A look of terror washed over Roger's face.

Matt, however, was sniggering. "He's already figured out the code for the front gate," he declared, slightly proud of his lover's cunning. "When I was answering you, I was watching him." While the old man looked relieved, that frown of irritation still lingered.

"It would seem that your penchant for mischief hasn't faded in either of you," he muttered.

"He should be up here soon," The two of them watched as Mello came in through the front door. "Ah...never mind," the redhead muttered as a swarm of children from the front room suddenly mobbed him, excited at the rare chance to meet a visitor.

Matt bit back his laughter as the children poked and prodded him, chattering quickly and probably asking him every question under the sun. He remembered doing the same thing so long ago. A visitor was a chance to learn.

Or a chance to outsmart them.

"We should probably go and rescue him now, shouldn't we?" Roger said with a wide smile as he stood from his desk, as if he had been expecting this type of pay back.

"Yeah," Matt said, reluctantly following the man out of his office. He would have liked to have watched Mello suffer a little longer, but he couldn't honestly say that he was sure the blond wouldn't point a gun at any one of the children if pushed far enough. His fuse had been shorter than normal for the past few days, and Matt had no desire to test out it's exact length here.

* * *

"Wow, where did you get that scar?!"

"Were you attacked by a bear?"

"It couldn't have been a bear, stupid! That's a burn scar! Can't you tell?"

"Oh, oh, are you a firefighter?!"

Mello narrowed his eyes menacingly. "Do I look like a firefighter?"

"No, you look like a girl!"

A muscle just above Mello's eye twitched in fury. His hands clenched into fists. Some of the kids were actually trying to reach up and touch his scar. He'd already had to throw off kids trying to climb up his back twice now and there was someone tugging at his wrist.

"What?!" he snapped as he looked down at the child who was shaking his arm to get his attention.

There was a little girl at his side, looking no older than six or seven, with curly brown hair pulled back into pigtails. She was looking up at him with genuinely curious eyes. She didn't seem to care that Mello had just yelled at her. "What happened?" she asked softly.

"Yeah!" an older boy chimed in. "Were you in some sort of duel? Or were you chasing after some criminal or something?"

"No, I-I..." Mello felt himself blushing as the girl kept staring eagerly up at him. "I blew up a building."

Silence swept across the children for a moment as they processed his answer, looking awed.

"What'd you do that for?" one of them finally asked.

Mello faltered at answering. Suddenly, all eyes were on him and they were patiently awaiting his explanation. "Well, I guess...it's because I wasn't strong enough." He smiled a little, enjoying the attention and admiration.

He had to admit, he felt pretty cool, even if he was only cool in the eyes of the kids standing around him.

"I treated this friend of mine like shit, because I thought taking care of him would make me weak. Then, I nearly got myself blown to hell and he took care of me." He looked up and saw Matt on the stairs next to Roger, looking down at him with a grin. He knew that the redhead was enjoying the rare moment of tenderness in Mello's behavior, even if he was the only one who could recognize it.

"So yeah, I'm stronger now because of him."

* * *

"Hey, Mello, if I put my hair up in pigtails, will you treat me nicer?"

Mello rolled his eyes as Matt sniggered from the doorway of the bedroom. "Shut up, Matt."

The redhead laughed as he walked over to his lover who was sitting on the couch, legs up on the cushions, his back against the armrest, and a laptop resting on his thighs. "Honestly, though, I think you've ruined all those kids, swearing like that in front of them." Bare arms draped over Mello's shoulders and Matt was kissing his neck, auburn hair brushing against his cheek as the gamer's hands drifted along his waist. "When did you become so obscene?" he heard the younger man breathe into his ear.

Mello tilted his head back to kiss Matt deeply, one hand reaching up to hold the back of his head. "I don't know," he murmured as they broke the kiss, lips hovering inches apart. "Maybe it was when I realized that it gets you off, hearing me talk dirty to you."

The blond smirked as the man above him blushed deeply at the comment. He tried to pull away, to cover up his embarrassment, but Mello's hands closed over his arms and kept him down.

"I meant it, you know," he said quietly. "What I said about you making me stronger." He reached up with one hand and gently ran his thumb over the redhead's cheekbone.

"I know," Matt said with a nod and a shy smile.

Mello released him and pulled the laptop from his legs, setting it down on the coffee table. "So, have a nice chat with Roger, then?" He slid his legs from the couch and leaned back, draping an arm along the back, the other reaching for the bar of chocolate sitting on the end table.

Matt wandered over to the TV to start up his games, having only finished setting them up minutes ago. "Yeah, he gave me the whole motivation speech again." He shrugged, snatching up a game controller from the mess of wires. "Nothing new, really."

Mello frowned around the square of chocolate in his mouth. Not long ago, he would never have questioned Matt's neglect for his own well-being. It had never been a problem before. As long as Mello kept saying "I love you" and buying him new games and new systems every few weeks, the redhead couldn't seem to get any happier.

Had he really been so blind as to miss that crucial weakness in his friend's personality? That he had become so dependent on the blond as to lose his own sanity without him?

"Turn that off," he said abruptly. Matt looked over his shoulder from his spot on the floor, looking confused. He suddenly looked so open and vulnerable, in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Without the long sleeves and the furry jacket and the goggles, he was almost completely bare, nothing to hide behind, no defenses against Mello's searching eyes.

"What'd I do this time?"

"Nothing," he responded from the couch, appearing a little surprised. "Why would you ask that?"

The redhead grinned weakly as he shut his game systems off and ambled over to the couch. "You only tell me to shut them off if I've done something wrong."

Mello set the chocolate bar on the armrest and scooted to the very end of the couch. "Well, I'm sorry for that, then. Now lie down." He patted the empty spot next to him.

"You're what now?" Matt joked, lying down as Mello had instructed, resting his head on the blond's legs.

"I said I'm sorry, you prick." He threaded his fingers into Matt's hair. There was still some moisture clinging to his scalp from the shower he had taken an hour and a half ago. "Don't make me repeat myself again." He gave him a dangerous smile before kissing him lightly.

"I don't really know what to make of this," the redhead murmured. "You're being too nice."

"No, I'm not. You just don't remember." He picked up his chocolate and snapped off a piece between his teeth. "It's easy to forget, really, things like being nice."

Matt sighed lightly as Mello's hands took to stroking his head, brushing his hair slowly from his eyes, caressing his forehead. He suddenly remembered days in LA before Mello had joined the Mafia, back when he would wake up crying and screaming because he kept dreaming about being left alone again. They would sit in this same position together, sometimes for hours, until could pull himself together.

It was the only thing he ever asked Mello to do for him back then, and the only thing he could have asked for. No, it was more than he could have asked for.

"You were always so busy," the younger man murmured, letting his eyes drift shut.

"You didn't waste my time, if that's what you mean," the blond quickly stated. "Now, just be quiet for a few moments and let me enjoy this."

With a small smile, Matt fell silent. He was enjoying this as well, even if it had been provoked by something he dreaded talking about.

But now, with Mello's fingers brushing over his hair, leaning over him, and the deep meaning it all held for the both of them, it suddenly didn't seem so intimidating.

He knew Mello would understand, that he would listen, that he wasn't leaving.

He shivered as he felt the blond's fingers drift from his hair and down to his arms, tracing over the scars with far more delicacy than he had that morning, as if they were some priceless heirloom. "I can't really fathom why you would do this to yourself," he murmured and Matt could hear that he was sucking on the corner of his chocolate as he spoke.

"Helps me focus, I suppose," the redhead said, his voice almost a whisper, nearly asleep in Mello's lap. "When I get so crazy that I can't keep my thoughts together, it puts it all into one piece."

Mello turned his gaze from the man's arms to his face, where he found half-lidded, glassy eyes staring back up at him. "But you don't do it when I'm around," he pointed out.

"Don't need to. You've always done a pretty good job of keeping me together. You always let me know if I start thinking about something stupid."

"Like your parents?"

Matt closed his eyes again. "Yeah, like them."

However, the chocolate colored eyes shot open once again when he heard Mello scoff at him. "Why the hell do you let it get to you?"

Slowly, Matt reached up and twirled a lock of golden hair around his finger. "The same reason you let Near get to you."

Mello's reaction was instantaneous, or rather, it was several reactions happening simultaneously. He was angry, he was shocked, he was touched, he was ashamed. And Matt just kept looking up at him, a small smile gracing his face, obviously amused by the blond's sudden emotional indecision. It almost looked as if each quarter of the man's face was trying to dedicate itself to one specific expression.

"Mello," he laughed. "You look like you've just been given too much Botox in all the wrong places."

Just as suddenly as it had come, the expression was gone and Mello was back to his nonchalant self. "This isn't healthy, Matt," he stated as he absentmindedly began tracing circles over the redhead's cheek. It was easy for him to get lost in the sensation of his skin. More than once he had found his hands wandering over it while Matt slept.

"I agree, Botox was probably the worst idea ever."

"I'm serious, Matt."

"So am I."

Irritation mounting, Mello found himself in an inconvenient position to kick, hit, or throw anything other than his lover beneath him. Instead, he settled for giving Matt's auburn hair a rough yank and placing a forceful kiss to his lips.

He felt Matt struggle momentarily beneath him as teeth cut into lips and blood was drawn. However, when Mello finally released him a few seconds later, the redhead was still and dazed.

"Alright, fine, I'm serious now," he muttered.

Mello smirked and leaned down to rest his forehead against Matt's. "So, are you going to just start talking or do I need to have an interrogation to get it out you?"

The gamer looked confused. "Get it out of me? You've already got your explanation, what more do you want?"

"What did you think about?" the blond asked sincerely. "I'd love to know. Despite what you may think, I don't know _everything_ that goes on in that head of yours." He lightly ran his fingers through the hairs at the nape of Matt's neck, grinning as the younger man shivered at the sensation.

"Could have fooled me," he said, sounding slightly breathless. His body squirmed anxiously. "Mello, I'd rather not-"

"Yes, I'm aware that you would rather not, Matt, but I think you misunderstand." He sat up, biting off another square of chocolate. "I'm not giving you a choice."

"You've heard it all before, it's nothing new."

"I don't care. It's a release, like writing an angry letter and never sending it. It's supposed to be relieving."

"That's not a relief, Mello, that's just stupid."

"Matt, either start talking or I'm flipping your ass out on the street."

The younger man threw an arm over his eyes and growled in annoyance. "It...I wasn't even thinking of specific memories-" He cut off as he felt Mello's hand touch him lightly on his head.

"Matt, I do not care." The blond spoke slowly, deliberately. "Just..._talk_."

For someone who was hesitant to talk, Matt began speaking almost immediately. He was trying not to give himself too much time to think about it.

"In my bedroom, there were no working lights. I remember there being a light on the ceiling. It was round, with this big crack on one edge. I always thought it was going to break and fall on my head at night. Dad never put a lightbulb in it." He smiled weakly and Mello saw tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Once, I had a nightmare and Mum came in because I was screaming. I actually hit her, because I couldn't tell who she was in the dark. Dad used to come in at night, just to scare me. He thought it was pretty funny. I hated my room, there was nothing in it but my bed, a dresser, and an empty toy box."

"You've never told me about that," the blond murmured. "You never said a thing about your room."

"Well, the toy box wasn't always empty," Matt continued, as if he hadn't even heard Mello. "Mum used to keep toys in it, but when Dad got upset, he'd throw them at me, so she took them up to the attic. If Dad was at work, I'd just stay up there. I wasn't allowed up there though, so I had to make sure to get out before Dad came home. He-" Matt cut off with a choking noise, squeezing his eyes shut. He began muttering quietly and Mello had to lean down to hear him clearly. "No more," he gasped, shaking his head frantically. "Please, Mello, I can't do this-"

"What else, Matt?" Mello reached down and brushed away a tear slowly rolling down his lover's cheek with his thumb. "Tell me something else, something different."

Matt said nothing, only shook and gasped for air and Mello began to wonder if it really had been too much.

"Matt, if you-"

"The basement," the redhead interrupted. "There were pipes. I used to be scared of them too. They clattered really loudly all the time. But I was down there once for an entire day, and I started listening to them." He managed another feeble smile, but kept his eyes shut, tears leaking out between moist eyelashes. "It was like a song. Kind of like the music in a game. I...I almost fell asleep to it." A long shiver ran through his limbs and his hands clenched into fists against the couch. "He tied me there, to the ceiling, to those pipes. I'd...I'd h-hang there and scream. He kept t-telling me to s-scream louder. Told me to cry and b-beg. A-and _he would fucking laugh_! He'd hit me and punch me and I'd bleed and he found it goddamn hilarious! L-like it was a_ fucking j-joke_!" Matt's entire body went rigid now, arms and legs shaking in fury and terror. "And M-mum just stood there! She fucking stood and w-watched! She n-never stopped him! She just-!" The strangled, anguished sob building in Matt's throat was released and Mello almost jumped at the sound, more tormented and distressed than he had expected. "Fuck, Mello, please! I can't do it! Please!" He curled up, still shaking and sobbing, burying his face against Mello's stomach.

"It's...it's alright," the blond awkwardly reassured. Back when they were still teenagers, those words seemed like they could do wonders, back when the scars of Matt's past didn't seem to run so deep, back when they both felt like they could conquer the world. Now, he felt lost and hopeless, slowly pulling Matt into his lap and letting him cry into his shoulder and clutch at his arms, shoulders, hair, with no idea of what to say or do to alleviate the pain his friend was feeling.

Eventually, he realized that there was nothing he _could_ say. There was no magic cure, no simple words to wash it all away. The only thing that could make it better were the tears spilling onto Matt's cheeks and Mello's chest.

Even so, he kept murmuring to him, even long after the redhead had fallen silent. What he was speaking of and why, neither knew, but he kept repeating it over and over and over again until the words finally felt close to being true.

"It's alright."


	4. The Trust of Fear

A/N: Heh. Hi guys...now, before you all come after me with torches and pitchforks, I just wanna say that I'm really, really, really sorry for the long wait. A ton of things came up and this chapter literally got rewritten at least six times. Even now, I'm a little iffy on this chapter. So, constructive criticism would be **really** helpful. The whole thing with the fuel line leak actually happened to me a few years ago. The mechanic had replaced my fuel filter only a week before and it ended up completely disintegrating. I didn't realize until I had driven the car around and was completely stunned when my fuel tank was empty after only a day.  
I just wanna thank everyone who read through Intangible and Never Mind, and for all of you who commented on the bonus chapter of Beyond.  
With this chapter, I found that I should probably say that this is a "prequel" to Beyond. I'm not sure if I've mentioned that before, but if you don't get some of the references, especially in flashbacks, then you might wanna head over and read through Beyond.  
Now, there are A LOT of people to thank here. So many of you were there for me while I was working on this chapter, keeping me going, spurring me on.  
So, thank you to all of you who reviewed since the last chapter: Trinny Dream, Moot-Kun, Myrah, kikyo1027, thinlimitation, ImaaaChan, Tsunade 225, enchanting minor.ox, twentyfiveraven, Eloquent Catastrophe, Living in a fantasy, RenoLuver, Kaze Kimizu, Demon Hiei's Girl, Party in the Afterlife, Svadilfari, Darsh Stala, Riku-Aura777, ducky-jewell, Daft Punker, naturally morbid, Shikirou, gonzomouse, mariposasabrosa, newo-ikkin-2113, and last but certainly not least, the ever wonderful mrsjeevas, who has been there, prodding me and poking me and lighting a fire under my lazy ass to get me to write this chapter. I was ultimately unable to keep up with her as far as writing (I post this only a few days after Poisoned Rationality had it's last chapter added to dA), but she's been keeping me in stride, bouncing ideas back and forth with me, breaking down this huge brick wall I had set in front of me, and keeping me active with encouragement and ideas.  
Well, now that that's all done with, here you are, after more than two months of waiting! You know the drill: **read and review!**

Lyrics are from Tokyo Police Club's "The Harrowing Adventures Of".

Disclaimer: Huh, all the manga covers have the names Ohba and Obata on them. Apparently I don't own Death Note. Nor do I own "The Harrowing Adventures Of".

* * *

Chapter 3 - The Trust of Fear

"To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved." - George MacDonald

Time became something Matt found impossible to grasp during the night, plagued by dreams and nightmares and specters that stood in the corner of the room, in the corner of his mind, watching him from the shadows. One moment drifted into the next, one nightmare morphed into another.

His eyes opened. Darkness. He was breathing heavily. The smell of chocolate drifted over him and there was a hand on his head.

"Shh, you're safe, Matty."

His lips moved, but his tongue felt swollen. He coughed, his throat sticky. His own voice was distant in his ears. What was he trying to say?

He fell asleep again, only to wake once more. It could have been minutes, hours, days since his last waking moment. Still darkness. What time was it?

Synapses tried to connect in his foggy mind. _Find the clock. Look out the window._

His eyelids were drooping again though and he couldn't even remember what a clock looked like.

"It's alright," he heard someone saying. Arms were gathering him up, pulling him across the mattress. Someone was holding him.

His face pressed against warm skin and he silently cried.

The next time he awoke, the room was filled with a grey and drab light. The fragile moments before sunrise. It was very, very quiet.

Yellow. There was yellow bobbing before his face. Golden hair. It felt soft against his cheek.

Mello.

Mello was holding him.

The haze was finally dissipating in his head and he finally comprehended that he was cold. He yanked the comforter up to his chin and drew his legs into his chest.

He finally descended into a peaceful slumber and the nightmares faded away into yellow and warmth and a kiss on his lips that would seem like only a dream in the morning.

* * *

"Time to get up, Matty," Mello said in a sing-songy voice. "You've got a big day ahead of you."

Matt groaned into the pillow, Mello's statement only barely comprehended by his brain. He wanted more sleep. He cracked an eye open and was greeted by the sight of his lover's waist at eye level. A strip of creamy skin peeked out from between the bottom of the leather vest and the top of his pants. He was struck with a very strong urge to reach out and run his finger along it.

It took a few more shakes and at least one threat of injury before Mello impatiently shoved him out of bed and into the shower, refusing to give him a good morning kiss until he was bathed, dressed, and dosed up with enough nicotine to make him tolerable. Matt was still blinking drowsily as he took a seat on the couch in the living room and a cup of tea was placed into his hands.

"I feel like I've got a foghorn going off in my head," he mumbled as Mello came and set one of his laptops down on his thighs.

Smiling slightly, Mello leaned forward and brushed the auburn hair back with his palm. His fingers played idly with the errant strands. "You haven't had a good cry like that in ages, I'm not surprised."

Matt blushed as he sipped at his tea. There was a tenderness in his lover's touch that seemed almost unwarranted. "God, you _are_ being too nice." He paused as he went to take another sip before lowering the cup from his mouth, staring down at the laptop screen. There was a large list of names and addresses presented before him. "What is it I'm supposed to be doing?"

"Find your mum and dad in that list," Mello replied. "I'm going to get some coffee."

The moment Mello was in the kitchen and out of eyesight, he released a long breath, hands on the kitchen counter and his head bowed.

That was it. Letting go had been that easy. Just a few words and it was done.

It was in Matt's hands now.

Mello felt out the realization in his head, mouthing the words, getting a feel for it.

Getting a feel for not being in control.

The mere thought made his hands shake as he poured his morning coffee, causing the pot and mug to tremble, threatening to spill the steaming liquid down Mello's front and all over his fingers.

"Found it!" Matt called from the other room and he nearly dropped the pot right there.

Taking a deep breath as he set the pot back down, he crossed himself for strength before walking back into the living room where the redhead was busy copying down an address and phone number onto a piece of paper. "Where are we heading then?"

Matt straightened and Mello saw that he already had a cigarette between his lips. The cup of tea was empty on the coffee table. "Swindon."

* * *

"Mum must have changed her name. Pity I can't remember her maiden name," Matt said as he cracked the car window open slightly. He shivered from the burst of cold air that rushed in and swiftly shoved his cigarette butt out into the billowing snow. The scrap of paper clutched in his free hand rustled in the fierce wind until the window shut again. Mello had lost count of how many cigarettes Matt had gone through already.

Too many for Mello's liking. As the smell of smoke grew heavier, the taste of his chocolate began to fade away.

"You could call Roger. He's probably got her in your file."

"It's alright. If Dad's out, he'll know where she is." The redhead smiled, leaning his head against the window. "He will tell me." The last bit came out like a threat.

Mello glanced over at his lover, a bit surprised at the tone of his voice.

Everything about Matt's stance was wrong. His smile was cold and bitter, his PSP was still in his pocket, his body was relaxed in his seat. Matt was actually opting for a moment of peace and quiet.

A rather malicious sort of quiet, but quiet nonetheless.

Biting back an irritated noise, Mello turned his eyes back to the road. He didn't like how far away Matt seemed. "What's gotten in to you?" he mumbled, though he hadn't meant to say it aloud.

Matt looked over curiously, lighting up yet another cigarette and taking a long drag. "You're the one acting strange," he said sharply. "You seem fucking excited about all this. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to shove me back into my parents' arms."

Mello scowled deeply. "If you're going to be an ungrateful brat about it, I could always catch the next flight back to Japan."

The redhead froze and Mello had a brief moment of unexpected panic. Matt was bare and vulnerable, ready to hide away within himself at the first sign of danger.

The likelihood of frightening him off for good had never seemed more certain.

He was about to apologize, but Matt spoke first.

"I smell petrol."

Mello blinked in confusion. "You...what?"

The gamer leaned forward."Can't you smell it? It's coming out of here." He pointed a gloved finger at the one of the air vents, currently blasting warmed air into the car.

"I can't smell a fucking thing with all the damn cigarette smoke!" he snapped. Then, just as suddenly, he softened and inhaled slightly. The scent of gasoline was, indeed, present.

"I thought you said you didn't care about my smoking habits," Matt said snidely.

Mello sighed in frustration, trying to keep his eyes on the road as well as searching for the source of the smell. "I don't, Matt! I didn't mean-!" He cut off, quickly running his hand over his face. "Look, can we please just talk about this later?"

Matt's face set into a stony expression. "Pull over."

"Matt-"

"Just _pull over_."

It took the blond nearly a whole minute to comply, though everything in his being, both the side that craved control and the side that wanted to make Matt happy, screamed at him not to. Before the car even came to a full stop, Matt had opened the door and stepped outside, boots crunching in the snow and hair flying in all directions as the gales tossed it about.

The snow storm that had been forecast this morning had caught up to them. The wind was swirling viciously, kicking snow up from the ground in blinding waves of white.

The redhead stuffed the paper with his father's address into his pocket to keep it from blowing away, inhaling deeply and then exhaling a cloud of smoke before walking around to the back of the car, head bowed against the wind. His face was hidden in fake fur and flashes of red.

Mello watched in the rearview mirror as he began trudging out, towards the road, back in the direction they had come. A strip of slush, brown and dingy, was all that separated his lover from the few cars that came rushing by. The blond tensed, some sort of protective mechanism kicking unexpectedly into gear, though the animalistic side, the more violent and controlling side kept him in his seat.

"Fucking bastard," he swore under his breath. If Matt was going to leave, he wasn't going to stop him.

But then, Matt was walking back towards the car, leaning over and examining something in the snow closely, a puff of grey pouring from his mouth every few steps. He came up to the driver's side and opened Mello's door.

"Get out."

The blond sneered up at him, fully prepared to have a fight on the side of road if need be. The words brought back a slew of memories of another time, another snow covered road, that same tone in Matt's voice, the same look in his eyes. "Are you going to put me in handcuffs?" he spat icily.

Matt gave a sigh of exasperation and leaned down. Mello tensed, putting his arms up to stop Matt from leaning down any further. The redhead gave him a confused look, glancing down at the limbs impeding him. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm not doing this again."

The gamer laughed humorlessly. "I'm not asking you to do anything but let me look at the dash."

Slightly taken aback, the tautness in Mello's muscles uncoiled and Matt leaned the rest of the way over to get a look at the gas gauge. "Thought so," he said vaguely, though his words slurred together slightly from the cigarette between his lips. "I think we've got a leak in the fuel line." He straightened and sat down on the edge of Mello's seat, tapping ashes onto the snow.

The blond turned his gaze to the dash and saw that the fuel gauge was dangerously close to empty.

The tank had been nearly full when they left the apartment.

"Think we can fix it?"

Matt shrugged, inhaling lightly as if he were considering it. "It all depends on where the leak is." He stood, dropping the cigarette and crushing it into the snow with his foot. "When I signal you, turn the car on, 'kay?"

Mello nodded his understanding. Matt turned to leave and then paused, snow eddying and swirling about him. Then, without warning, he bent down and kissed Mello firmly on the lips.

"Just trust me, alright?" he said, almost inaudible over the wind howling around them.

Mello nodded dumbly, a wave of gratitude and affection rolling over him. He barely even registered Matt standing and walking to the side of the car, his lover's words still imprinted sharply in the front of his mind.

_Trust me._

Those words held so much meaning, so much depth. Trust meant more than that, meant more to people like them. A Wammy's child didn't simply place their life in someone else's hands unless-

"Okay!"

Mello suddenly jerked back to the present. He could see Matt waving his arm to him out of the corner of his eye. He was crouched down in the snow, craning his neck to look under the car.

Mello turned the key.

"Stop! Stop!" Matt exclaimed, almost frantically, and the blond swiftly turned the car off once more. He stood, looking pissed off, wiping the snow from the front of his legs; large wet spots were left in their wake. "Fucking thing is practically hemorrhaging fuel."

"So I take it you can't fix it."

The redhead seemed to bristle at the comment. "If it were just a loose fuel hose I could fix it. I don't even think the fuel filter is in one piece anymore."

Mello was already getting out his cellphone to find the number for a tow truck and a mechanic. Matt climbed back into the car, rubbing his hands over his forearms with a shudder. His thighs stung as the melting snow began to numb his skin, spreading and seeping slowly through his jeans. A yawn built up in his throat but he fought to hold it back.

It slipped through and Mello gave him a sidelong glance, his brow furrowing with a frown.

After a few moments of conversing, Mello disconnected the line, but then began dialing in a new number. "It'll be an hour or so before they can get a tow truck out here and take us into town." He opened his door and began to step out of the car. "Get some sleep if you want," he added, almost as an afterthought before climbing out of the vehicle.

Mat crawled into the back seat of the car to sprawl out along the seats, his head resting in the crook of his arm, his damp legs sticking to the leather upholstery. He was wet and cold and shivering, but he suddenly felt very comfortable. He could hear the sound of wind beating on the windows and Mello's voice as he spoke to someone on the phone, muffled and distant in his ears.

It felt very safe here.

After only moments, he was drifting somewhere between the world of being awake and the endless mystery of slumber. Mello seemed to be speaking to him now from inside his own head.

"Mind if I join you?" His words curled around him, warm and soothing, and Matt nodded tiredly, eyes still closed.

One moment, he heard Mello clambering over to the front seat, the next, his head was lolling back against Mello's stomach and gloved fingers were lightly running through his hair. There was music playing faintly from the crackling radio, a noise that was meant to drown out the sound of the wind.

"Mello, the radio..." he began endearingly.

An arm slid lightly over his waist and hugged him gently. "I know, go to sleep."

When Mello was sure Matt was asleep, when the rise and fall of his chest lengthened and slowed, when his whole body relaxed against him, he released a slow breath and leaned his head back against the window.

Inside, the radio was still playing music, sporadically fading in and out over the speakers, white noise bordering on overpowering the lyrics.

_The harrowing adventures of_

_You and I when we were captains of_

_Submarines made of steel_

_Discovering the seven seas..._

Outside, the wind rushed past, whipping in every crack and crevice, whistling and roaring to a fierce crescendo before petering out into a gentle hum.

Out there, the world was uncaring. In the car, it was a fuzzy line between protection and dominance.

And that little nagging issue of trust.

Mello bit his lip to keep himself from groaning aloud. The fear that had sprung up in his chest when Matt had leaned down towards him...

Was it a lack of faith or an overload of doubt?

If it was doubt, then perhaps something could be salvaged. But if the issue was faith...

_Your ghost did you wrong_

_When he wiped your spit on the table cloth_

_I am here to fight_

_And let your blood in the dim moonlight_

_Two wrongs making right..._

Absentmindedly, Mello fingered the rosary around his neck, taking solace in the fact that, for the next hour, Matt was right here, lying against him.

Matt, who asked for nothing and took whatever he was given.

But when he awoke...

Suddenly, their crappy room in LA seemed very, very distant, so very small in the scope of Mello's mind. Irreplaceable, irrecoverable, with no strength beyond that which a memory possessed.

Mello hugged Matt closer, stricken with a sudden urge to sob, though he had no idea why. A sliver of selfishness inside of him wanted to shake Matt so that he might be consoled, but instead he kept himself focused on the whistling wind and the discordant harmony it created against the tune playing over the radio.

_The harrowing adventures of_

_You and I before our eyes lit up_

_Shadows cast in the night_

_Led me to your old home_

_Set the tables for two alone_

_Pass the salt, pour the wine_

_Because I'm alright if you're alright..._

* * *

_The final slap that the man delivered to his son's head effectively knocked the young boy unconscious, leaving him swaying lightly from the ceiling where his wrists had been hung. _

_In the few moments of hazy disorientation before everything went dark, the redheaded boy could hear his mother's saying "that's enough" followed by distant sounds of quick, awkward steps, though from what, the boy couldn't tell. _

_He came to after what felt like only moments, but had to have been longer because he could no longer feel his hands. The strip of cloth that had been used to bind him was cutting viciously into his skin. _

_"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm getting you down." _

_He blinked a few times to make the room stop drifting in and out of focus and finally saw his mother beside him, reaching up to try and cut through the cloth with a kitchen knife. It was slow work and he squirmed with a groan. _

_"Mum, it hurts," he quietly whined. _

_One of her hands closed down roughly on his hip. "Stop moving!" she snapped. She inhaled sharply, and gave a jerk as she let out a short sob. _

_Head still in a fog, it took him a few moments of staring with half-lidded eyes to fully see the dark mark beneath his mother's left eye. It looked a nauseating green color in the gloom of the basement. Something sparkled as it drifted along the discolored skin._

_She was crying._

_"Mum, what's wrong?"_

_Her nails dug mercilessly into his hip. "Keep quiet, Mail," she hissed. "You'll wake your father!"_

_She finally managed to cut through the material and let him down into her arms, hugging him tightly before sitting him down to untie his wrists. _

_"Why does he do that?" he whimpered as his mother began to free him. "Why did he hit me?"_

_"I've told you a hundred times not to play in the attic," the woman scolded, her words wavering oddly as her shoulders shook. "You know your father doesn't like you to be up there."_

_"My games are up there, Mum!"_

_He whimpered when the woman gave him a gentle slap on the cheek. "Don't you raise your voice like that at me!" She looked quite cross with him, brow furrowed in irritation. "Do you understand?"_

_The young boy nodded quickly, sniffling as he began to cry. _

_At the first sign of tears from her son's eyes, the woman seemed to break, taking him in her arms again and holding him close. "Oh, Mail," she murmured as she stroked his hair. "Your father works very hard for the both of us. I need you to be well behaved for me so things will go a little more smoothly around here."_

_"H-he do-doesn't have t-t-to h-hit me," he sobbed very quietly against his mother's shoulder. _

_The woman pulled back, reaching down to quickly finish releasing the young boy's wrists. "Well, after a long day," she began slowly, tucking a strand of red hair behind the small child's ear. "Your father likes to relax. He loves us both very much and he worries about us."_

_"Then, why does he hurt me?"_

_She opened her mouth, then hesitated, staring out past her son's head for a few seconds. "Because sometimes...he worries about us too much. Like when you go and play in the attic. He's...he's worried that you might hurt yourself. He likes to know that you're safe, so he likes keeping us close."_

_The boy narrowed his eyes. "Then why does he hurt _you_?"_

_His mother looked confused. "What are you talking about? I just tripped in the bedroom this morning, Mail." She gently touched the bruise with a very forced smile. "I'm just a clumsy person. Your father would never hit me."_

_"You're lying to me!" he shouted, jumping to his feet. "He gave that to you, and the scratch on your arm and that dress that got torn! He was the one who did it! You just keep lying to me and letting him hurt me too! I hate you!"_

CRACK!

_The boy stumbled back a few steps, holding his cheek. That slap had been _much _harder than the first. _

_"_Don't ever speak like that to me again!_" she screeched, looking livid. She roughly clutched his already bruised wrist and began dragging him towards the stairs._

_"Mum, please," he pleaded weakly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"_

_"Keep your mouth shut!" she ordered, letting go of his arm and pointing up the stairs. "Get up to your room, right now!"_

_He hesitated, trying to bite back the sobs as tears began dripping from his chin. "Mum, I'm sorry-!"_

_"NOW!" _

_With a frightened yelp, the boy quickly dashed up the stairs not even bothering to check if he was okay when he tripped and scraped his knee on the last step. _

_And as he lay in his bed, crying quietly into the darkness, he could hear his mother come up to bed. There were hushed voices followed by scuffling and a loud thud and then nothing but the uneasy silence. _

* * *

The whistling in Mello's ears had stopped. Now there was only an annoying rapping.

He groaned and shifted slightly. Matt was still in his arms. His eyes cracked open and he saw a man waving to him from outside the car.

"You called for a tow truck?"

Mello groaned again, shaking his lover slightly to wake him. They stepped from the car, Matt leaning against the blond and rubbing his eyes tiredly. The snow was still falling, but the wind had finally died down.

"You two look beat," the man joked as he finished hooking their car up to the tow truck. The patch on his shirt said that his name was Neville.

Mello did his best to smile, though the man's cheeriness was beginning to get irritating.

He drove them into town, a drive that had to have been less than hour, but felt like days. Matt fell back asleep almost immediately, taking the seat between the door and Mello's frame, his head lolling against his friend's shoulder, all three of them packed in tightly together. It smelled like grease and oil and the sharp tang of metal, but it was also warm and snug.

Mello looked at the clock on the dash. It was nearly 2 o'clock. Neville seemed to notice his gaze and chimed in.

"Sorry it took a little longer than predicted. Roads have been Hell today, what with the snow."

"Yes," Mello murmured, remembering checking the weather report on his phone shortly before crawling into the back seat. "A snow storm passed through, didn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question. He was in no mood to talk.

Matt shifted a bit beside him, roused slightly from slumber. Mello cradled his head with his arm and lightly stroked his hair.

"Don't be so difficult," the younger man rasped with a slight grin.

"Right," Mello replied awkwardly. He turned back to Neville with a very forced smile. "Meteorological observations are one of my favorite pastimes. Perhaps we could get into a rousing discussion on atmospheric thermodynamics as well?"

Matt snorted quietly beside him and said nothing more.

* * *

Mello did not take the news at the mechanic's well. Visibly, he handled it very calmly as they told him that his fuel filter had basically disintegrated and a proper replacement wouldn't be available until tomorrow, though Matt could see the irritation bubbling up in his eyes before he jerkily shoved his sunglasses over them. On their way outside, the redhead pulled his PSP out of his pocket, as if it would protect him from the older man's rage. Matt kept waiting for the dam to break, for Mello to overflow with anger and frustration and a long string of obscenities.

However, he behaved uncharacteristically sane and understanding as they left the mechanics and made their way down the street to McDonald's, the only restaurant open in the small town, for a late lunch.

The place was packed with families and screaming children, all of them griping about the sudden snow storm and how the roads were a mess. Whenever Matt glanced up from his game, he could see Mello standing ominously still, eyes hidden behind his oversized sunglasses and his hands in his jacket pockets.

Matt could see the outline of his lover's fist around his handgun in his pocket. With each twitch of the blond's fingers, Matt gently nudged the man's hip with his own before sidling slowly back and out of Mello's personal space.

Just enough contact to keep him calm, just enough room to avoid injury if he snapped.

A calm Mello was possibly more frightening than a maniacal, blood-thirsty one. In a calm state, Matt was more hard-pressed to balance him, more frantic to find the sore spots that were meriting such a chilling response and soothe them accordingly before everything went to Hell.

They reached the counter and Matt said he wasn't hungry. Mello asked for a large order of fries for him anyway, then ordered a burger and a hot chocolate for himself.

"I'm sorry, sir," the young woman behind the register said, grimacing apologetically. "Our hot water machine is broken. I'm afraid we can't serve any coffee, tea, or hot chocolate."

Matt felt compelled to hurry forward from his place behind his lover and chimed in, "A chocolate shake then." He paused, risking a glance at the blond. So far, so good. No one was dead with a bullet through the face just yet. "Make it two."

The woman quickly entered the order into the register and Matt fished the money out of his pocket, if only to prevent having to guess whether it would be cash or a gun coming out of Mello's jacket.

The moment the woman was gone to obtain their food, Mello put his arm around Matt's waist and pulled him close before the redhead had a chance to sneak out of reach again. "Thank you," he whispered, squeezing the man tightly.

"I said I wasn't hungry," Matt replied, trying to hide his slight smile.

"Yet you ordered a shake as well- fucking hell, there's a damn kid trying to crawl up my leg!"

Looking down, Matt saw a small boy, probably no older than three, clutching the leg of Mello's pants, eyes wide in curiosity.

Matt was trying vainly to hold back his laughter. "Kids love you, Mels," he teased. "Though I can't help but wonder if it's the chocolate or the fact that you occasionally act like a five-year-old that draws them in."

At that moment, a woman came rushing by, scolding her toddler son who was in the process of trying to climb his way up Mello's leather pants, hands tightly fisting the material. She was already muttering a hurried apology before she had even dislodge the boy from his new plaything.

"You should be more careful with your child," Mello advised as the woman straightened, her son in her arms. He smirked widely. "What if I had just snatched him up?"

Eyes widening in fear, the woman quickly darted back to her place in line, hugging her child close to her chest as if she would never put him down again. Matt mouthed an apology to her behind Mello's back.

"Jesus, Mels, you don't have to be a bastard to her," he whispered.

Mello pinched the redhead sharply in the side before he grabbed their order off the counter as soon as it came, shoving the two milkshakes into Matt's hands. Without another word, he was making is way to the entrance, pulling the redhead along with him.

"You just like to needle people where ever you go, don't you?" Matt asked as they made their way down the street.

"I was doing her a favor," the blond replied. "That kid was just begging to be kidnapped." He watched as Matt sipped experimentally on his milkshake, how his lips curled around the straw, how he shivered lightly when he swallowed, how the street light reflected off his goggles and seemed to make his eyes glow. "So, is it safe to assume that you're back to your normal, submissive self?"

"Yes," Matt said, his cheeks turning red and Mello could tell that it wasn't from the cold. "Sorry."

"Good," the older man stated with a grin. "Because if not..." He leaned over and whispered suggestively into his lover's ear. "I'd have to put you in your place."

Matt's heart fluttered wildly in his chest as Mello's hot breath skated down his neck. He gave a shy smile and ducked down to hide his blush in the fur of his jacket. "Well, if that's the case..." He leaned over and shoved Mello with his shoulder, just enough to make him stumble.

The blond flashed him a dangerous look that didn't fade until after they arrived at the hotel, after they checked into a room, until the door was slammed and locked behind them. Even then it didn't disappear. Instead, it morphed into a hungry expression and a low growl in Mello's throat the moment they were alone.

There was no waiting around, no time to change or shower or anything really. The second the food was set aside and Matt's hands were empty, he was slammed up against the door, one of Mello's hands enclosing his wrists behind his back the other running through his hair to dislodge his goggles. The fell to the floor with a muffled clatter and the gloved hand came up to his scalp to press the side of his face into the wood.

Instinctively, the redhead seized up in fear and his diaphragm jumped, ready to press out a scream from his lungs. Then, he caught a glimpse of Mello smirking behind him, eyes half-lidded and hazy and the noise turned into an abrupt gasp.

"Don't think I didn't see that," his lover whispered, a flicker of concern in his emerald irises. "Are you scared of me, Matty?"

The gamer opened his mouth slightly, hesitating with his answer. They had been rough before, many times before. And each time, it was alright, because it was Mello, the man that Matt trusted his life with.

But flashes of his childhood zipped by in his brain now, and for a brief moment, he forgot where he was, who he was, forgot Mello's face and the sound of his voice and that it was him who had his hands on his body.

"Yes..." he answered slowly. "Sometimes."

The hand around his wrists tightened agonizingly and he bit back another cry. Just as quickly however, they loosened and released his wrists.

"No!" Matt groaned, arms flailing to find his lover's hand again. His head was still being held down, his temple pressed painfully against the door.

"I love you, Matt." Warmth enclosed him as Mello's body pressed against his, kissing down his neck, nuzzling his shoulder, pulling his gloves from his hands. "I do, I really do."

"I know," came the choked reply. "I'm fine now."

Mello growled in his ear and yanked his hair roughly, dragging him over to the bed before throwing him, fast first, onto it. The redhead scrambled to get onto his back, to keep his eyes on Mello, to remind himself that there was no reason to be afraid. The blond climbed onto the bed like a predatory cat, stalking it's prey. Hands slipped under his shirt, pulling it up his body and over his head. Kisses covered his face and neck as he felt nimble fingers removing his belt; Mello was practically purring in his ear now.

Yes, Mello was the cat and Matt was the mouse. This was all play before the kill.

A knee slipped between his thighs and the redhead couldn't contain his groans, shifting his hips as his jeans gradually grew more uncomfortable.

But Mello wasn't removing his jeans. He was removing his own belt now and tying his hands to the headboard with it, fastening the cross-shaped belt buckle at the insides of his wrists. He sat back, straddling the redhead's waist, wearing a Cheshire grin. He brought his arm back and Matt flinched instinctively, waiting for the slap he knew was coming.

"Oh, for God's sake!" Mello exclaimed, leaping up and off the mattress, pacing agitatedly at the foot of the bed. "Fucking hell, Matt, you're flinching before I even touch you! You actually think I'm going to fuck you when you're like this?!"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yes, actually, you've done it before."

His remark was met with a very dark glower. "That's not what I mean, Matt," he spat, his tone acidic and sharp. "You said you were afraid of me."

"Yeah, okay, I said I was afraid of you _sometimes_," the gamer corrected. "If I know it's you, then it's not so scary."

Mello blinked once, twice, realization beginning to appear in his eyes. "If you know it's me..." He took a step towards the bed. "If you know it's not your father, you mean?" He saw Matt give him a small nod. "You were scratching yourself up last night, trying to call for help." He gestured to the redhead's arms with a jerk of the head.

Matt turned his head as best as he could and took in the fading, red scratch marks running down his upper arms. How had he missed them?

Mello seemed to have read his mind. "You don't even look in the mirror in the mornings, do you?"

"How long did it go on?"

The older man had finally stopped pacing now, arms crossed over his chest. He watched Matt's eyes drift up his chest and he knew that he was probably envisioning unzipping his vest. A heat began building low in his abdomen, close to his groin. "You were fine once I held you."

"And if you keep holding onto me, I'll still be fine." Matt blushed deeply, pulling lightly at his bonds. "Could you make up your mind about whether or not you're gonna fuck me? My wrists are starting to ache."

"Deal with it," the blond snapped automatically, slowly crawling back up onto the bed.

"Matty, you're sure about this? About seeing your parents?"

"Yes." The response seemed almost _too_ swift.

"Just say the word and we can go home."

"Mello, I'm _fine_. Now will you just shut up and fuck me?" Mello leaned forward to argue further when the redhead thrashed beneath him, a fiery look piercing through a curtain of red hair. His eyes almost seemed to blaze, shading chocolate brown with a seductive red. "Will you just get to it before I knee you in the gut?!" Matt threatened with snarl that was all sex.

With a smirk, Mello sat back on the redhead's hips. "Do you trust me?"

"With my life." The tone in Matt's voice had softened, but the defiant fire in his eyes still burned. The ease with which he had answered raised a sliver of irritation in Mello's chest, but he pushed it aside. He would deal with it tomorrow. They would worry about it tomorrow.

Tonight, he was going to chase away the demon's that plagued Matt's mind, marked his arms, made him shake and cry into the emptiness of the night.

"And that's why we'll be alright." Matt's head snapped to the side as Mello finally slapped him across the face before crawling down and hurriedly removing his jeans. Matt lost himself in the hasty movements, unable to tell when Mello had left those hickeys on his chest, when they had finally stripped themselves of the last piece of clothing, when he started begging for more, when Mello finally complied. By the time he managed to catch up, Mello was placing a tender kiss on his lips before he thrust his hips forward to enter him roughly.

"I won't let go of you, Matty."


End file.
